


What Makes Life Divine

by bronwe_iris



Category: Cinderella (1950), Cinderella - All Media Types, Cinderella - Fandom
Genre: F/M, guess who should be working on their actual novel and not a Disney fanfic, this schmuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronwe_iris/pseuds/bronwe_iris
Summary: She should run. Tear free from this stranger who so thoroughly captivated her. Escape this wonderful, terrible, ephemeral dream before her deceit was discovered and bared before him.Oh, but how deeply she wanted this moment to last.





	1. Chapter 1

None of her dreams could have prepared her for the sight of the palace.

Everything was so _massive_. The curving staircases blanketed in carpets of velvet wine, the high ceilings arching above her in golden beams, the pillars of marble framing the ballroom as it stretched out before her.

Hundreds of courtiers filled the space, all facing the dais Cinderella assumed to be where the focus of the ball was: the Prince. It was impossible to see past the crowd to catch a glimpse of the King’s son, but Cinderella put little effort into the endeavor. Far more intrigued by the surrounding grandeur, she cast a mere glance at the court before returning her attention to the dazzling scenery.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle, but are you looking for someone? I don’t believe I have seen you here before.”

Cinderella snapped her head towards the unexpected voice. Standing off to the side was a young man, who was watching her curiously. He was not one of the attendants or guards she had passed on her way to the ballroom; his formal attire clearly indicated he was a guest of noble station. He had a tall, slim figure that was pleasing to the eye, and a head of dark brown hair neatly combed back, allowing Cinderella to get a full view of his face.

He was alarmingly handsome.

For a moment, she was quite unsure what to say. She had not been expecting to be noticed so quickly upon her entrance to the ball, if at all. And yet a man stood before her now, his soft brown eyes gazing at her in fascination.

Unbothered by her silence, the man’s lips curved upwards. “No, I am certain you are new to the palace,” he said. “I would have remembered meeting you.”

A tentative smile touched Cinderella’s mouth. “You are correct in your assumption, sir,” she said. She pulled at the stitching of one of her gloves nervously. “I had not realized I was so obvious.”

A laugh emanated from the man. “Most of the courtiers here are far too pompous to notice much beyond their own lapels and plumes. Your attentions were diverted elsewhere, which was refreshing to see.” He gestured to the ballroom. “And what is your final assessment? Is everything done to taste? Or perhaps the decorations are overdone in their extravagance?” He shot her a humorous glance. “I’m afraid my own opinion would be a useless one to adhere to, as I have a rather mediocre eye for such finesse.”

Cinderella’s smile widened. “I think it is perfect.”

The warmth in his eyes deepened. He took a step towards her and extended his hand. “Well then, now that you have given your approval of the place, would you care to dance?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the courtiers. “But no one else is dancing,” she said.

The man shrugged. “Then I suppose we shall have to be the first to do so. Don’t worry, they will join in soon enough.” He winked. “Following others is what courtiers do best.”

Cinderella stared at him, shocked at the blatant manner in which the man spoke of the other nobles. Did he not care what they might think if they overheard him? But the man, who continued to hold his hand out to her, seemed utterly unconcerned by such potential consequences.

She had not danced in years. To do so now, and in front of so many people…

She opened her mouth, ready to reject the offer. But the gentle coaxing in the man’s eyes eased her anxiety, and she found herself stretching her hands towards his.

Her hand slid into the cradle of his waiting fingers, and she stifled a sharp intake of breath. Even though both of them wore gloves, a surge of warmth radiated across her palm at his touch. For a moment she was sure that he had felt it too, for he stilled, a strange look passing over his face. Then he blinked, and a jovial smile brightened his features once again.

He led her through the tangle of people to the center of the ballroom. Cinderella forced herself to look ahead, uncomfortably aware that many of the guests were watching her and the man. Panic struck her as she realized that her stepfamily could very well be nearby, and for a brief moment she considered wrenching her hand free of the man’s to disappear into the crowd and escape what was beginning to feel like a very precarious situation.

The man pulled her to a stop, and she turned to face him. _Run!_ Her thoughts urged her. _Before you are recognized! Before your deception is uncovered for all the court to see. Before he realizes who you really are._

But then he placed his hand on the small of her back, and all her worries were wiped from her mind. A tingling sensation erupted from where his palm was pressed, spreading outwards and engulfing her entire body. She lifted her free hand and laid it on his shoulder.

The orchestra near the dais began to play a waltz. And they were off, dancing across the ballroom floor. The man led Cinderella with a relaxed confidence, and she soon found herself void of any concerns that she may make a misstep. How could she, with such an attentive partner?

The faces of the other guests flew by in a blur as the couple whirled past. All else seemed to fade, save for Cinderella and the man before her. Tearing her gaze from the magnetic pull of his eyes was an impossible task, and one she would not have wanted to indulge in even if she were capable of doing so.

They made their way across the ballroom, dancing through a curtained archway and onto a terrace overlooking the palace gardens. No one followed them, and they were left alone to finish the dance as the final notes of the waltz faded into the night.

They stilled, neither of them loosening their grip on each other. No longer preoccupied with the dance, Cinderella was once again very aware of the man’s hand on her waist. The tips of his fingers felt like pinpoints of heat, searing through the fabric of her gown as if it were her very skin he was touching.

“You…you dance very well,” she finally managed, her voice breathless.

The man took a moment to respond, looking just as dazed as she was. Then he grinned at her. “My father certainly would be glad to hear that,” he said. “It’d be a comfort for him to know that my complaints at having to attend dance lessons were not ignored in vain.”

Cinderella laughed.

“You are quite a fine dancer yourself,” said the man. “I am assuming you had a plethora of adoring instructors growing up.”

It had been an innocent comment, but Cinderella could not help sobering. “Just one,” she murmured. “My father.” She swallowed. “But it’s been some time since our last dance.”

The man’s grip on her hand loosened at the look on her face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s all right,” said Cinderella. “It’s been many years since his passing.” She stepped back, and his hand fell away from her waist. His other hand remained linked to hers, and she made no effort to detach herself from it. “Besides, I have other friends to sate my desire for companionship.”

“Oh? Would I know any of them?”

“I doubt it,” said Cinderella humorously. “They are of a rather…different sort of social circle than the one you are likely used to.”

The man pressed his lips together. “I am not as confined to the palace court as you may think me to be.”

Cinderella cringed. “I did not mean any offense. I only meant…” She trailed off, not sure how she could possibly explain the meaning behind her cryptic answer.

The man’s expression softened. “You did no such thing,” he assured her. He glanced over his shoulder at the curtained entrance separating them from the ballroom. “Come,” he said, pulling her towards the steps leading into the gardens. “Lest we stumble upon any wandering guests and are forced to partake in boringly polite conversation with them.”

Smiling at his jest, Cinderella followed him down the stairs. They stepped onto a stone pathway and walked along it through the neatly maintained grounds, which were decorated with flowering archways and intricately carved statues. All the while the man’s gaze remained on Cinderella, apparently content with simply watching her as she marveled at their surroundings.

They stopped before a large fountain. Water spilled from the centerpiece in endless streams, sending ripples out towards the fountain’s walls.

“This place is beautiful,” Cinderella sighed.

“It is rather pretty in the moonlight,” agreed the man. “As you have never been here before, I am going to assume you are visiting someone. Family, perhaps?”

Cinderella was suddenly very grateful they were outside; she could only hope that the night’s darkness would hide the flush that had crept onto her cheeks. How was she to answer? “Yes,” she said carefully, inwardly wincing at the lie.

The man nodded. “Cousins, maybe? An uncle? Or perhaps a sister who had married some well-off duke and is now blessed with five or six children.”

A laugh spilled from Cinderella. “Not quite.”

The man gave her a look of mock horror. “Don’t tell me she has _more_ than six children.”

“No,” grinned Cinderella. “I am aunt to no children at all.”

“Ah.” The man nodded in a curt, matter-of-fact manner. “Then it is _your_ aunt that you are staying with.”

“No. Not exactly.”

The man huffed in feigned exasperation. “Will you not divulge the answer, then?”

“Certainly not,” said Cinderella, mirroring his lighthearted tone. “My relative would hardly approve if I were to give out such delicate information so freely.”

The man chuckled. “Of course.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “Well perhaps you will at least give me your name.”

Cinderella paused, startled by the unexpected question. “I…” She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice soft with regret. “No, I had better not.”

The man tilted his head, frowning at her sudden change in demeanor. “Why ever not?”

She bit her lip. Then she forced a smile back onto her face. “Oh it is a rather dull name,” she said airily. “Hardly one worth dimming the night’s air with.”

The man cocked an eyebrow at the odd response. He shook his head in amusement. “Very well. I shall try to guess it.” He thought for a moment. “Isabelle?”

The corners of her mouth quirked further upwards. “No.” She tugged her hand from his and moved away from the fountain, walking towards a bridge arching over the garden’s canal.

Disappointment flitted across the man’s face at the loss of her hand, but he did not try to grab for it. He followed her onto the bridge. “Charlotte?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Helga?”

Cinderella burst into laughter, and the man quickly joined in.

“You’re right,” he said. “Not very fitting.” He tapped his chin. “Ilene?”

“A lovely guess, but no.”

“Am I to receive no hint, then?” It was a teasing question, though it teetered close to a plea.

Cinderella smiled. “Perhaps I may give you one later. But for now…” She turned to the bridge’s railing and propped her arms on it, leaning forward to gaze into the canal waters. “Let us simply enjoy the evening.”

The man sighed, though the playfulness in his eyes did not wane. “Very well.” He mirrored her movements, his arm brushing hers as he settled against the railing.

They fell silent, staring out over the water with a peaceful contentedness. Faintly, Cinderella could hear the chatter of the guests in the palace, the muffled sound mingling with the music from the orchestra. But her interest in the ballroom had long faded in favor of where she was now, with the freshness of the outdoor gardens and moonlight spilling onto the canal’s glimmering surface. It felt like a dream, perfected by this charming stranger standing beside her, whose arm remained pressed up against hers in a manner that sent her mind reeling with delight.

 _This_. She thought wistfully. _This is what makes life divine._ She turned her head to look up at the man. He adjusted his gaze to match hers, and she found herself unable to quell the sudden rapid beating of her heart.

He smiled. “Dance with me again?”

She nodded, allowing him to take her hand from the bridge’s railing to encase it in his. They swept off the bridge onto the grass of the gardens, where he guided her in gentle circles beneath the star-speckled sky.

“Since you are a visitor to the city,” said the man. “Perhaps you travel often. Am I correct in that assumption?”

She shook her head. “No, sadly not.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I hate to repeatedly give such disappointing answers to your questions.”

“Your answers aren’t disappointing,” he said, sounding surprised at such a notion. “On the contrary, I find them rather intriguing.” His hand, which was pressed against the small of her back, drew her ever so much closer. “All right, if you _were_ to travel, where would you go? Surely there is some exotic place that draws your attention.”

_Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever freedom is._

“Well?” he prompted.

She sucked in a breath, gathering her courage to continue beneath such an earnest gaze. “Oh, there are many places. My father used to tell me about all the cities he had visited while traveling. Each sounded more wonderful than the last.” She sighed. “Though I doubt I shall ever see them.”

The man frowned. “Why do you say that?”

She fell quiet, debating how to respond. “Have you traveled?” she asked instead.

The man hesitated, clearly wanting to repeat his question. “Yes, I travel often,” he admitted. Slowly, he led them back onto the terrace. “But my father has grown tired of it, I think.”

“Why?”

“He believes me to be avoiding my responsibilities.” He shrugged. “Which I suppose I am. But condemning myself to the dull lifestyle he wants for me is something I have long dreaded. I had been trying to delay it for as long I could, even though I knew I would have to come back here eventually.”

“And are you glad that you did?”

His gaze locked onto hers with a startling intensity. “I am now."

She did not have an answer for that.

Their dance finally ended, and the man led Cinderella to a short wall bordering the terrace. He helped her settle onto it, then sat beside her.

“How long do you plan to stay in the city?” the man asked. The question was laced with hopeful anticipation. “Surely you did not come for the ball alone.”

“And if I had?” inquired Cinderella.

The man was silent, contemplation heavy in his eyes. Then he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Then I would beg you to reconsider the length of your visit. To stave off your departure for a later time.”

Her very breath felt stolen from her. “Why?” she managed.

He bent, lowering his face so that it was level with hers. “Because all the grandeur and magnificence surrounding us…it utterly pales beneath the notion of not seeing you again after tonight.”

She stared at him. An unexpected longing to concede to what he was implying rose up within her, but she forced it down. “I can’t,” she whispered.

He cupped her other arm, holding her as he leaned closer.

“ _Please_ ,” he breathed.

She should run. Tear free from this stranger who so thoroughly captivated her. Escape this wonderful, terrible, ephemeral dream before her deceit was discovered and bared before him.

Oh, but how deeply she wanted this moment to last.

Their lips were almost touching. He paused, waiting for her to draw back. She did not. Her body trembled, her mind humming with the word he had spoken only seconds before: _please_.

He moved to close the distance left between them.

Then the clock hanging over the terrace struck midnight.

Cinderella gasped and pulled away. “Oh my goodness….”

The man frowned. “What’s the matter?”

She shot to her feet, horrified. “It’s midnight.”

“Yes, so it is,” said the man in bewilderment. “But why –”

_You cannot leave him. Do not leave him! Do not let this moment slip away from you._

“Goodbye!” cried Cinderella. She turned back towards the ballroom.

The man stood and caught her hand, tugging her to a stop. “No, wait!” The distress in his voice made Cinderella’s chest ache, and for a moment she considered heeding his plea. “You can’t go now, it’s only –”

“Oh, I must!” _No, you mustn’t!_ She yanked her hand in an effort to free herself. “Please, _please_ , I must!”

“But why?” Hurt mingled into his confused tone. “Is it something I’ve said?” He tightened his grip. “If I had brought you offense, you must tell me. Please, you can’t –”

“No,” said Cinderella. “No, it is not you. You are…” _The most wonderful person I have ever met._ “It’s not you,” she repeated. “I just…it’s only that…” She glanced about, searching for an excuse. “Why, the Prince!” Her gaze snapped back to his. “I haven’t met the Prince yet.”

The man looked genuinely shocked at that. His hands fell away from her. “The Prince?” he said, aghast. “But…didn’t you know that –”

The clock struck once more.

Panic shot through Cinderella. “Goodbye!” She spun away from him, running across the terrace.

“No, wait!” called the man. “Come back! Please come back! I don’t even know your name, how will I find you?”

Cinderella glanced behind her to see that the man had burst into pursuit. She shook her head – though she wasn’t sure whom the gesture was meant for – and dashed through the curtains separating the terrace from the ballroom.

“Please wait!”

The final cry from him before she thrust herself into the mass of courtiers tore at her heart. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them back. She could already feel the magic unraveling, its emptying spool urging her on.

_Come back. Come back. Come back._

His words echoed with each toll of the clock.

Unrecognizable voices were calling after her, ordering her to halt. She ignored them, running as fast as she could down the palace stairs. But she miscalculated the final few steps and stumbled.

And then.

One of the glass slippers fell from her foot, falling to the carpeted steps with a dull clink. Cinderella paused and whipped around to snatch it up, but she caught a glimpse of a palace attendant rushing towards her. Abandoning the slipper, she hurried outside to her waiting carriage.

As the carriage pulled away from the palace, Cinderella could not help turning around to peer out the window. It was an impossible hope, that she might catch a final glimpse of her mysterious stranger. Of course, he was not there.

The carriage jolted through the palace gates, racing onto the road beyond.

Her hair was coming loose, tumbling down over her shoulders in strawberry-blonde waves. Her dress was fading, losing its shimmering silver for a dull pink and white.

On they fled, through the city streets and away from the palace.

Soon the carriage returned to its original pumpkin form. The horses became mice, and the coachman and footman transformed back into a horse and dog. With Cinderella in the lead, they scampered out of the road, watching from the shadows as the King’s men stampeded past.

Once the danger had gone, the bedraggled group emerged into the moonlight. Cinderella glanced down, and was surprised to discover that one item had not disappeared in the aftermath of the spell – the glass slipper. She bent, sliding it off her foot to cradle it in her hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She looked up at the night sky, hoping her Fairy Godmother could hear her. “Thank you for everything.”

The evening had ended. But the young man, with his soft brown eyes and comforting touch…he would not fade from her dreams. Of that she was certain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the Prince from the 2015 Cinderella is named Kit, but I don’t connect that Prince Charming to the one from the 1950’s Cinderella. Totally different princes in my opinion. As for the 1950 prince’s name, I have seen “Henry” pop up here and there. Apparently an old Disney France TV spot used the name "Henry" for Cinderella's prince during advertising for the Blu-ray/DVD release. I don’t know how true that is (even so, I doubt Disney regards it as canon). But regardless, I think the name suits him nicely. As for the Grand Duke, I tried giving him a fitting name as well.
> 
> And as much as I enjoy Cinderella 3 (the best Disney sequel, in my opinion), I am not considering any of it canon for this story (particularly the scenes of the king and prince while they waited for the Grand Duke to find the girl with the slipper).

Panic rushed through Prince Henry as he wrenched aside the curtain the girl had disappeared through. He only had a moment’s opportunity to glance about, and then he was suddenly engulfed by a swarm of young noblewomen.

“Your Highness, are you free for the next dance?”

“We had been wondering where you had disappeared to!”

“Do not forget me, Your Highness! I have yet to dance with you!”

Biting back what would have been a highly inappropriate vocal display of his frustration, Henry shoved his way through the squabbling courtiers. A few of the girls cried out in indignation, but he ignored them.

By the time he had broken free of the mass of people, the girl in the silver dress was nowhere to be seen. Racing across the ballroom and into the hall beyond, he hurried down the staircase leading to the castle’s main entrance. All of the guests’ coaches were lined up alongside the gravel pathway leading away from the palace; if the girl had come in one, she would have to go there.

“Follow that coach! _Open those gates!_ ”

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was the Grand Duke. He was waving his arms wildly, shouting orders at half a dozen members of the Royal Guard. The command given, the black-clad riders urged their horses through the gates, stampeding out onto the road beyond the palace.

“Gustave!” yelled Henry. He hurried down the stairs two at a time. “ _Gustave!_ ”

The Grand Duke spun around at the prince’s shout. “Your Highness, thank goodness!”

Henry came to a stop before the man. “Gustave, what –”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Gustave said breathlessly. “I’ve sent the Royal Guard after her.”

“What –”

“They will bring her back,” the Grand Duke insisted.

“You –” Henry glanced at the gates, through which he could see the shrinking silhouettes of the riders. “You sent the _Royal Guard_ after her? Gustave, what were you thinking? She has no idea why they are pursing her. They’ll terrify her!” He waved his hand in exasperation. “Does the Guard even know _why_ they are chasing her?”

The Grand Duke flushed, his eyes wide as he processed the prince’s words. “I…” He looked back at the gates. “Oh dear. But, Your Highness, your father. He specifically asked me to ensure that –”

“Hang whatever nonsense my father has been telling you!” exclaimed Henry. He glanced down at the glass slipper clenched in the duke’s hand. “What’s that?”

The duke followed the prince’s gaze. Surprise flashed across his face, as if he had forgotten what he had been holding. “Oh.” He held it out to Henry. “It belongs to the young lady. She had dropped it before getting into her coach.”

Henry took the slipper. His eyebrows lifted as he studied it. “Glass? She was wearing _glass_ slippers?”

The Grand Duke shook his head in wonder. “Of all the ladies to choose for a bride, Your Highness, you certainly found the most peculiar one.”

Henry frowned. “I didn’t spend the evening with her because of my father’s incessant desire for me to find a wife, Gustave. I simply wanted…” He sighed. “I don’t know what I wanted.” He handed the slipper back to Gustave, determination seizing his expression. “I need my horse.”

Fresh panic rose in the duke’s eyes. “Your Highness?”

Henry was already hurrying in the direction of the palace stables. Gustave rushed after him, struggling to maintain a dignified composure as he did so.

“Prince Henry! Where are you going?”

“After her,” replied Henry. He quickened his pace, ignoring the dismayed sound that emanated from the duke. “If the Royal Guard _does_ manage to catch her, I need to be there to ensure that this mess doesn’t escalate into something worse than it already is.” He exhaled, the sound shaky with agitation. “I shouldn’t have chased her in the first place,” he muttered, more to himself than Gustave. “I probably scared her out of her wits. And now with the Royal Guard out there…” He groaned.

They rounded the outer wall of the palace, and were approaching the closed doors of the massive stables.

“Your Highness,” gasped Gustave, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep up. “Your father…what am I to tell him? He expects you to find a prospective bride by the end of the ball!”

Henry yanked one of the stable doors open and disappeared inside, the Grand Duke close behind. “Tell him to find something more productive with which to occupy his time,” snapped Henry. He went to his horse’s stall and unlatched the door.

Despair settled over Gustave’s face as he watched the prince grab the saddle from the stall wall and heave it onto the stallion’s back. “But Your Highness!” he cried miserably. “The king…he’ll be _furious_ when he hears what has happened.” His eyes darted to the stable doors, as though expecting the king to come barging in with his execution order. “This is dreadful. Absolutely horrible. What am I to do? Oh, merciful heavens…” The duke’s sputtering trailed off into a moan.

Henry, who had been securing a bridle on his horse, turned to look at Gustave. He contemplated the Grand Duke, then heaved a sigh. Taking the horse’s reins, he led the animal into the main aisle of the stable and reached out, placing a hand on Gustave’s arm. “Gustave,” he said gently. “This is not your fault. But if Father insists on having an answer…” He heaved a sigh. “I cannot speak for the girl and her wishes, but as for myself –” He clenched his horse’s reins tightly. “ _I love her._ ”

There. He said them. The words he had had no intention of even considering during the course of this ridiculous ball. But it was true. It was utterly, achingly true.

Henry laughed. “I feel completely mad saying it, but I do. I have never felt something so intense, so _right_ before.”

Gustave opened his mouth, but he hesitated, unsure how to respond to such a declaration.

Henry did not seem to notice the Grand Duke’s discomfort. “If she were to accept me,” he continued. “I would take the girl who fits this slipper for my wife. I cannot promise Father that this will happen, but…” A fervent longing settled into his eyes. “Regardless, I _must_ find her.”

“But…” Gustave fumbled with the slipper in his hands, watching helplessly as Henry mounted his horse. “ _Your Highness_ –”

“Don’t lose that slipper, Gustave,” said Henry. He gave the horse’s side a nudge with his foot, and the stallion cantered through the stable doors into the night.

/

Henry followed the road winding through the city, his heart thudding and his mind spinning.

_Why did you leave? What made you flee in such a manner? Was I the cause of it? Or was it something beyond your control?_

The possibility of his questions never being answered was a terrifying one.

The streets were mostly empty, though at one point he had to lead his horse around a pile of what looked to be mangled pieces of pumpkin. He barely had time to note the strangeness of the mess before he caught sight of the Royal Guard riding towards him.

No coach or girl accompanied them.

Relief is what initially tugged at Henry; he had had no desire for the Royal Guard to find the girl in the menacing manner they had left the palace. But he could not deny the accompanying pang of disappointment. She was gone then – lost forever perhaps. His gut clenched at the thought, but he kept a stoic expression as he urged his horse forward to meet the Guard. “Aldric!” he called.

The Captain of the Royal Guard, Aldric, slowed his horse to a walk. “Prince Henry? What are you doing out here?”

“The coach,” said Henry impatiently. “Where is the coach?”

Aldric’s mouth thinned into a grim line. “It disappeared. We had followed it for some while, and then…” He shook his head in bewilderment. “We rounded a corner not too far back, and it was gone.”

“But it had been following this road?” pressed Henry.

Aldric nodded. “Who was in it?” he asked. “The Grand Duke had sent us after it with little explanation.”

Henry hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to divulge about the girl. “The person inside was not guilty of any crime,” he assured the Captain. “But they…are of great importance.” His gaze drifted off, peering out over the fields beyond the city borders. Moonlight outlined the shadows of distant rolling hills. A few sparse manors and farms spotted the grassy expanse, but no coach rode alongside them. He sighed. “Let us return to the palace.”

“Your Father –”

“I’ll speak to him about this,” said Henry. “You and your men won’t be needed again tonight, Aldric. But thank you.”

Aldric nodded once more, then motioned for the riders to follow as he and Henry turned back towards the palace.

/

His face grave with contemplation, Henry walked down the hall leading to the king’s bedchamber. Ahead of him, one the chamber doors cracked open. Out slipped Gustave, looking frazzled and pale.

“Gustave!” Henry hurried forward.

Gustave jerked his head up. “Your Highness! Thank goodness you’re back.” Hope flickered in his eyes. “The girl…?”

“Gone,” Henry said quietly.

Gustave wilted.

“But I’m going to speak to Father about it,” reassured Henry. “I’ll find her, Gustave.”

“I have already informed the king of what happened,” said Gustave.

“You have?” Henry groaned. “Gustave, you should have waited.”

The Grand Duke puffed his chest out, his lips pursing in haughty offense. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but after you had gone _gallivanting_ off into the night, someone needed to take charge of matters here. Which included reassuring our guests, which are still in the ballroom I might add, that there is nothing amiss.”

Guilt nipped at Henry. Seeing the strain on the Grand Duke’s face deflated the prince’s ire, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Gustave. I know you’re doing your best.” He gave a sullen smile. “This night hasn’t gone exactly as planned for either of us, has it?”

Gustave’s shoulders sagged. “That it has not, my prince.”

Henry patted Gustave affectionately and moved past him. “Father wasn’t too ridiculous when you told him, was he?”

“He, ah…” The Grand Duke rubbed his throat. “He took the news as well as can be expected. Better so, once I told him of your intention to seek the lady out.”

Henry nodded and grasped the handle to the king’s bedchamber door. “I’ll try to reason with him as best I can. Go on down to the ball and see to the guests, Gustave.”

Gustave bowed. “Very good, Your Highness.”

“And Gustave…thank you.”

The Grand Duke paused. The hint of a smile brushed his lips, and he gave the prince a final nod. Then he turned and headed back towards the stairs leading to the ballroom.

Pulling the door open, Henry stepped inside.

“Henry! I’ve been waiting for you, my boy!”

The king was sitting in a stuffed armchair by the bedchamber’s enormous fireplace. He was wearing nothing more than his nightshirt and robe, both of which hung down to his knees. Between his lips was a large cigar, which he pulled free upon seeing his son.

“So I hear you have found a wife! A rather elusive one, but a wife nonetheless. I knew that the ball would be a success, even though you had been childishly opposed to it at first.” The king rose from the chair as Henry approached and gave his son an enthusiastic pat. “Once the girl is brought back to the palace, we shall start the wedding preparations immediately.”

“Father,” said Henry in exasperation. “I have no idea who she is, nor where she has run off to. Even if I _do_ find her, how can I assume that she would want such an offer presented to her?”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the king. “You’re the Crown Prince. What girl wouldn’t say yes to such a proposal?”

Henry ran a hand over his eyes wearily.

“Besides, Gustave and I have already planned it all out,” said the king. He turned to the fireplace where, sitting on the mantle, was the glass slipper. Plucking the shoe from the marble surface, the king thrust it into Henry’s hands. “This slipper belongs to the girl, does it not?”

“Yes, but –”

“Then the solution to your problem is simple!” He gave the slipper a hard tap with the cigar. “I’ve already given Gustave the order. Tomorrow morning he shall visit each home in this city and try the slipper on every maiden in the households. Whomever the slipper fits shall be brought here.”

Henry frowned. “And if the slipper fits a girl who is not the one I had danced with?”

The king shrugged. “You said you wanted to marry the girl who fits this slipper. I fully support your decision on that, Henry. And tomorrow, we shall see what girl fate decides to match with your odd little shoe.”

“ _Father_ –”

“The decision has been made,” the king said firmly. “No more of your nonsense, Henry. I intend to see you married and settled down. And if this slipper hogwash is the only way to get you to cooperate, then so be it.”

Henry set his jaw. “Fine. But I will be accompanying Gustave in the search.”

“Absolutely not,” said the king. “Trying footwear on dozens of maidens is no job for a prince. I won’t have you stirring up any more gossip then what is likely already circulating amongst our guests downstairs.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of those halfwit nobles,” said Henry fiercely. “Father, I need to be part of this.”

“You _are_ a part of it, son. You will be the warm welcome the girl shall receive upon her arrival here.”

“That’s not good enough,” snapped Henry.

“Henry please, I need you to see reason on this.”

Henry set his jaw, defiance flaring in his eyes.

The king heaved a sigh. He reached out, laying his hand over Henry’s that clutched the slipper. “Henry,” he said, his tone softening. “I understand that you want to find this girl. Do not think I am ignorant to the feelings you are experiencing right now.” The king’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “Your mother was quite the woman. Though our marriage was pre-arranged, it did not take me long to realize that.”

The rigidity in Henry’s stance loosened at that.

“But,” continued the king. “I cannot have you running about the kingdom with nothing more than a glass shoe in one hand and nonsensical hopes of love in the other. I need you _here_ , with me.”

Henry looked down at the slipper. The king’s hand fell away, allowing Henry to more thoroughly examine the shoe. Candlelight reflected off the glass, making its surface glimmer transfixingly.

With a revered gentleness, Henry handed the slipper back to the king. “I’ll see you in the morning, Father.”

The king studied his son’s face. Then he nodded. “The morning, then.”

/

Henry did not sleep well that night.

 _Why did you leave so suddenly?_ A thousand scenarios tumbled through Henry’s mind as he lay in bed, ravaging all sense from him as he tossed and turned.

Perhaps it had been nothing more than her having to uphold a previous obligation. Though he could not imagine what tasks needed attending to after midnight. Or perhaps, his wilder imaginings suggested, there had been some danger to her, one that could be avoided only by fleeing the ball.

He brushed the absurd thought aside, owing it to his lack of sleep. For by now, the first rays of dawn had begun to seep through the windows, spilling onto the floor of his bedchamber.

Finally he was forced to contemplate the most horrible, yet very possible, reason: that she may have simply been looking for an excuse to escape his company.

The unwanted thought darkened Henry’s already dismal mood. He was not vain enough to assume that every girl would want to be courted by him simply because he was a prince. But he thought the two of them had gotten along extremely well; he had sensed no antagonism from her during their time together. Or else he was the world’s most oblivious dance partner.

Besides, the girl had not even known he was the prince! Another wave of disbelief shot through him again at that reminder, accompanied by a lightheaded sense of wonder. She had not known he was royalty, and yet she had spent the evening with him regardless. She had _chosen_ to stay with him. If she had wanted to leave before midnight, he was certain she would have done so.

Or maybe he was simply making up excuses to avoid the truth behind the girl’s actions.

A frustrated groan emanated from Henry. He rubbed his hands over his face, then rolled over and slid out of bed. Changing into a fresh set of clothes, he left his bedchamber and went down to the palace stables.

Upon entering the stables, Henry came to a stop. “Aldric?” he said in surprise.

The Captain of the Royal Guard looked up. “Ah, Your Highness,” he greeted. He gave the mane of the horse he was brushing another stroke. “I was wondering when you would come down.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if I’ve slept in until noon.”

A chuckle escaped Aldric. “I say it only because I had half-expected you to be here the moment the final guest had left the ball last night.” He gave Henry a knowing look. “You wish to accompany the Grand Duke on his search. Despite your father’s wishes for you to remain here.”

There was no point in denying it. Henry crossed his arms. “And Father has sent you here to wait for me.”

Aldric nodded. “He thinks your emotions are clouding your judgement.”

“He’s being ridiculous.”

“He said the same thing about you,” said Aldric humorously. He gave the horse a pat. “But convincing your father that you are sound enough of mind to search for your mysterious dance partner would be a fruitless endeavor; the Grand Duke has already left with the lady’s slipper.”

“He _left?_ But it is not even half an hour past dawn!”

“The king thought it best to start the search as early as possible.”

“Before I could intervene, you mean.”

Something close to sympathy passed over Aldric’s face. “If you wish to speak to him about it, he is having breakfast in the private dining hall.”

Henry glanced at his own horse. “And if I simply rode off, right now?”

“I think it would be wise to speak to your father first,” Aldric said grimly.

Henry tapped his fingers against his arm, indecision burning within him. Then he gave a slow nod, and turned back to the open stable doors.

/

A rather substantial breakfast had been laid out on the table in the royal family’s private dining hall. But the king had touched none of it; instead, he paced behind the high-topped chair at the end of the table. He straightened as the hall doors opened, watching as a familiar figure entered.

“Henry,” he said in relief. “You’re up. Good.”

Henry rubbed his forehead. “I’ve been up all night, Father.”

The king nodded. “Yes. I had assumed as much.” He paused and glanced at the hall windows, which overlooked the eastern palace grounds. “You, ah…have you been down the stables yet?”

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Henry’s mouth. “How long have you had poor Aldric waiting there for me?”

The king gave a humph. “He was perfectly willing to do so. He also had thought it wise to prevent you from doing anything rash so soon after the ball.”

“I’m sure,” said Henry. “While I appreciate the concern, Father, you cannot expect me to simply sit here and wait while Gustave wanders aimlessly throughout the kingdom.” He gave his father a firm look. “I need to go myself. Before this becomes a bigger mess than it already is.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, the question sharp with alarm.

“Gustave couldn’t very well lead such a search without a formal decree from me,” the king huffed. “I had an official proclamation written up before he left, explaining all of this madness. The news, of course, has traveled alarmingly fast in the short time since.” He waved his hand. “But no matter. The sooner this is all over with, the better. By now, half of the kingdom should be aware of the search for your missing dance partner. Hopefully that will speed the process up, as I’m sure the young ladies are all waiting anxiously at their doors.”

Henry stared at his father, his jaw gaping. “You sent out a proclamation?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” demanded the king. “You want to see this girl again, don’t you?”

“Of course, more than anything,” said Henry. “But –”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” said the king curtly. “And as for _you_ , you shall wait here. You will eat a proper meal, as I’m sure you have not done so since before the ball, and allow Gustave to do his job.”

Henry opened his mouth to argue, but the king held up his hand, silencing the prince.

“ _And_ –” continued the king. “If Gustave is still unsuccessful by noontime…” He sighed, but amusement twinkled in his eyes. “You may join him then.”

Stunned by this unexpected development, Henry did not have an immediate response to that. Then he let out an exhausted laugh. “You could have started this conversation with that.”

“I could have,” the king agreed, though he sounded rather indifferent to such a notion. He gestured to the table. “Now sit down and eat. I won’t have you fainting in front of your future bride due to a negligence of food.”

“We don’t even know if she _wants_ to be my future bride,” muttered Henry. But he reached for a dining chair nonetheless and pulled it out to sit.

“ _Eat_ ,” ordered the king.

Henry ate as best he could. However, it was hard to focus on food when all his thoughts were centered on where the girl from the ball might be. Part of him hoped Gustave would be successful, simply so he could see the girl that much sooner. But another part of him hoped that the search would be in vain come noon, so that Henry could go and find her himself. Torn desires and mangled worries made it difficult to eat, and he finally gave up, pushing away the remains of his breakfast.

The hours ticked by tortuously. After having thoroughly circled the dining hall numerous times, Henry wandered into the outside hall. He followed staircases up and down various floors of the palace, too consumed by his thoughts to occupy himself with any diverting tasks.

Finally, Henry could stand it no longer.

The clock in the library, which he had just left, had struck ten only a quarter of an hour ago. If the prospect of waiting until noon had seemed impossible before, it certainly was now.

He could not continue to remain uselessly in the palace. His decision made, Henry ran down a flight of stairs leading to the entrance hall.

“Your Highness!”

Henry skidded to a stop. He spun around, watching as a young palace attendant hurried towards him.

“Yes, Louis, what is it?” said Henry impatiently.

“A messenger from the Grand Duke has just arrived!” exclaimed Louis. “He had been sent ahead to inform you and the king. They are returning – they found her!”

_They found her._

Elation ignited within Henry, spreading throughout his whole body with a dizzying intensity. “They found her?” he repeated, his voice shaky with excitement.

Louis nodded. “They should be here within the next quarter of the hour.”

A laugh sputtered from Henry. “Tell my father at once!” he exclaimed. He spun away from Louis and sprinted down the stairs. “As for the Grand Duke and the lady, I will meet them in the entrance hall!”

Henry raced towards the palace’s entrance hall as fast as he could. His heart was pounding, triumphant delight thudding with each beat. There was an undeniable layer of trepidation there as well, for there was a very real possibility that the girl may reject what he was to offer her. But for the moment he cast it aside, allowing himself to bask in the joy of her coming arrival.

_They found her. She’s coming._


	3. Chapter 3

After the king had been informed of the Grand Duke’s success, he had come down and insisted on joining Henry to receive what he was sure to be his future daughter-in-law. But Henry managed to persuade his father to wait elsewhere, as Henry was determined to meet the girl without the pomp and circumstance his father would have prepared. Blessedly alone at last, Henry was left to exercise his rapidly thinning patience as he paced the entrance hall.

And then, _finally_ , the doors opened.

In came a small group, which mostly consisted of palace attendants and guards who had accompanied the Grand Duke on his search. There were about half a dozen or so in total, all looking rather grateful that they no longer needed to endure the bedlam of ladies wishing to try their luck at snatching up the Crown Prince’s hand in marriage.

In the middle of the ensemble, being led by the hand of the Grand Duke, was the girl from the ball.

She looked absolutely radiant. Overcome with relief at seeing her, it took Henry a moment before he noticed the strange attire that she was dressed in.

She was wearing the clothes of a servant. He frowned in confusion, wondering why a girl he had assumed to be of noble station would be dressed so. But the thought was a fleeting one, swept aside by heart-pounding joy as her gaze locked onto his.

Elation glowed in the blue of her eyes. Yet a distinct touch of trepidation flickered in them as well, and her steps faltered as she was led into the hall.

She was nervous. Of him? Or of being brought back to the palace, after she had made such an effort to leave it? Henry stepped forward, determined to assure her that such anxieties were unwarranted.

The Grand Duke released the girl’s hand and gestured to her in a grand sweeping motion. “Your Highness, as decreed by the king, I have brought the girl who fits the glass slipper back to the palace.” He indicated the girl’s foot, upon which shone the mentioned slipper. “Now that this has been done, the king must be called for so that we may begin the prepera –”

“That won’t be necessary, Gustave,” Henry quickly interrupted. He waved at the Grand Duke. “You may seek out my father if you wish. But as for the lady and I, we shall be in the gardens.” He gave the duke a knowing look. “Where we are not to be disturbed.”

Gustave bowed. “Very good, Your Highness.”

Henry nodded, then refocused his attention on the girl. His breath caught with delight as their gazes met, and he held out his hand. “Will you join me?”

The girl’s lips curved into a smile, and she slid her hand into his.

A heady warmth ignited where their palms pressed were together, the intensity of it almost breath-taking without the barrier of gloves between them. Tightening his grip, Henry pulled her from the circle of attendants to his side.

“Come,” he whispered.

She nodded, allowing him to lead her across the hall and up the staircase that opened to the ballroom.

The room seemed shockingly empty with no guests to fill it now. But neither of them seemed to notice as they headed towards the curtained entrance leading to the terrace. The girl’s glass slipper clinked lightly against the tiles as they walked, and Henry glanced down. “I have a million questions for you,” he said. “One of them being, of course, your peculiar choice in footwear.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a common fashion choice where you come from?”

The girl laughed. It was not as open of a laugh as it had been last night; there was still a clear layer of nervousness there. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Henry’s stomach. Was the reveal of his identity the cause of this new awkwardness between the two of them? Or was it something else?

“No, I imagine this is the only glass slipper to be made for wearing,” said the girl.

Henry slowed, concern pricking him. “Does it not hurt to walk in?”

The girl gave him a warm look. “No. The person who had made the pair is…rather talented. However,” she continued, before Henry could press for details. “It seems a bit ridiculous to wear only one now.”

“Where is the other?” asked Henry.

Disappointment flickered in the girl’s eyes. “It broke.” She smiled sadly. “But it matters not.” She bent and pulled the slipper off her foot. Setting it on the floor, she reached into the pocket of her apron and drew out a simple leather shoe.

Henry knelt and took the shoe from her hand. She froze, staring at him as he cupped the back of her bare ankle.

Her skin was impossibly soft. Swallowing, he glanced up. “May I?”

She nodded shakily, and he guided the leather shoe onto her foot. There was a moment’s pause, in which he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of her skin against his. Then he forced himself to pull away, grabbing the glass slipper before he stood.

Henry placed the slipper on the ledge of a nearby pillar and took the girls hands in his. “I was terrified,” he whispered. “When you left. I thought I would never see you again. Please…tell me that this is real. That you are here, that you _wish_ to be here, with me.”

That glorious smile touched her lips once again. “I am here,” she said.

“And you are here of your own will?” Henry pressed. “For if you came to fulfill some sense of social obligation, or to adhere to my father’s proclamation…” He sucked in a trembling breath, the words torturous to speak. “Do not feel as though you must stay.” He gripped her hands even tighter. “Though I desperately wish you would.”

Adoration – for _him_ , he realized with a thrill – filled the girl’s eyes. “I do not wish to go either,” she said.

He could have kissed her right there. But he held back, needing first to know a vital piece of information. “What is your name? Surely you are able to tell me now. _Please_.”

There was no trepidation this time as she gave her answer. “Cinderella.”

He sighed. _Cinderella_. “It’s a beautiful name,” he said. His face screwed up with playful embarrassment. “I was rather terrible at guessing it, wasn’t I?”

The girl laughed. Then she sobered and glanced away, guilt dampening into her expression. “But I cannot stay, Your Highness.”

His throat tightened, if not just from her words, then from the formal way in which she had spoken his title. “Why?”

Cinderella looked back at him. “Forgive me,” she begged. “But last night, at the ball…I had deceived you.” She pulled her hands free of his. “I am not who you think I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not a nobleman’s daughter.” She gestured to her worn, patched dress. “As it should be painfully obvious by now. My father…” Tears pricked her eyes. “He was a gentleman of little fortune, with only a single chateau to his name. His station was lower than that of an esquire, Your Highness. Hardly enough to even warrant an invitation to your ball. But…” A breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob escaped her. “He was the most kind-hearted, _wonderful_ person. I loved him dearly, and –” A firm resolution settled into her eyes. “I would not have given up his love for any noble title.”

His expression pained, Henry stepped closer. “Cinderella…”

Cinderella shook her head. “I know that the king’s proclamation commanded the slipper to be tried on every maiden in the kingdom. But I am certain he was not expecting a mere servant to be brought here.” Agitation pinched her face, and she twisted her hands. “I did not mean for this to happen; I had not been expecting to meet anyone at the ball. And especially not the _prince_. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come, but…” She sucked in a trembling breath, her voice small as she spoke. “I needed to see you again.”

Henry took her hands and drew them to his chest. “Cinderella,” he said softly. “Your station does not matter to me. A lack of fortune or social standing – both of which do not represent one’s character – will not dispel my feelings for you.” He paused, then chuckled. “Though I’ll admit, I _am_ curious as to where that silver ballgown came from now. But,” he continued. “None of that matters. I have not been searching for a duchess, or a countess, or a princess in these terrible hours since the ball ended. I have been searching for _you_.”

Tears dripped down Cinderella’s cheeks as she looked up at him. Keeping one hand clamped over hers, Henry lifted the other to wipe her face. “You must have known I would not have turned you away for so slight a reason. _Please_ tell me you had more faith in me than that. Why else would you have tried on the slipper? You could have avoided the Grand Duke’s visit to your house if you had not wanted to come.” His mouth slanted into a grin. “And trust me, the Grand Duke is a man easily eluded – _that_ I can personally attest to.”

Cinderella gave a watery laugh. “I had hoped…no, I _knew_ that you would not turn me away. But your father…”

“Is a man who desperately wants me married,” said Henry. “He will not care where you are from, so long as you –” He froze, realizing what he had been implying. “That is,” he said nervously. “What I mean is…it is _your_ choice, but…” He sighed. “I had not meant for it to come out like that.”

But Cinderella’s smile only broadened.

Henry sucked in a breath, composing himself. He may as well finish, now that he had started. “Perhaps this is too sudden of me to ask, but I must anyway.” He leveled his gaze with hers, his eyes deep with sincerity. “I love you, Cinderella. I have never felt so free, so _myself_ around anyone else before. You give me with this incredible joy when we are together; you make my once mundane life _worth_ something. I promise to give you that happiness in return, and more. Please,” he whispered. “ _Please marry me_.”

Tears welled in Cinderella’s eyes, and Henry watched as her lingering doubts ebbed into pure joy. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she said. “I love you too.”

A laugh burst from Henry. He pulled her close, and – _finally_ – pressed his lips to hers. Euphoria coursed through him, the sensation only heightening as Cinderella placed her hands on his neck to return the kiss.

Henry could have happily continued kissing her for as long as she would have let him, but the moment was soon interrupted by the distant sound of bickering voices. They were coming from the hall Cinderella and Henry had entered through – and growing closer.

“– insisted that he and the lady be left alone!”

“He’s had more than enough time to ask her. If he hasn’t done it by now, then _I_ shall propose to her for him! I won’t let that boy ruin this, not after all of the effort I’ve put into it.”

“But _Your Majesty_ , the prince specifically said –”

“Not another word, Gustave! Or I’ll make you the sole deliverer of each and every wedding invitation, without a carriage or escort to accompany you!”

With a disappointed groan, Henry pulled away from Cinderella. To Henry’s relief, she seemed more amused than alarmed at the approaching sounds. Regardless, he had no desire for this moment between them to be interrupted so soon.

“This way,” he said. Taking her hand, he led her at a near-run towards the curtain separating the ballroom from the outside terrace.

“Should I not meet your father?” asked Cinderella. “He sounds fairly determined for me to do so.”

“Trust me, the longer we delay it, the better,” assured Henry. He swept aside the curtain and pulled Cinderella onto the terrace. “The moment he sees you he’ll immediately send you off to the palace dressmaker to get fitted for a wedding dress. Before he hears whether you even accepted my proposal or not.”

“It’s nice to know that the king is so deeply invested in his son’s happiness.”

Henry snorted. “Yes, I suppose you could look at it that way.” He bounded down the final steps of the terrace, then turned and grasped Cinderella about the waist. Lifting her from the stairs, he spun her around and set her on the grassy ground of the gardens. He took her hand once more, and they ran towards the bridge arching over the canal.

“We’ll go _everywhere_ , Cinderella!” exclaimed Henry. “To all the cities your father had gone to. We’ll visit every single one, and then travel to the ones beyond that!”

“I thought your father wanted you to settle down,” Cinderella commented.

“He should be satisfied that I’m conceding to _one_ of his wishes, now that I’m getting married,” Henry said, exhilaration shooting through him at the new – and now entirely welcome – thought. He stopped at the middle of the bridge and spun to face her. “To _you_ ,” he said, boyish excitement lighting the words.

“Yes, to me,” grinned Cinderella.

He couldn’t help himself. He tugged her against him, planting another kiss on her lips. She laughed at that, the sound tangling between their mouths.

Realizing that they were still visible from the terrace, he reluctantly broke their embrace and led her down the opposite side of the bridge. “We can do our ‘settling’ in-between trips,” he declared, guiding her through a grove of flowering bird cherry trees.

Now perfectly hidden, Henry brought Cinderella to a stone bench nestled the center of the grove. They sat, and he pulled her hands into his lap.

“Are we safe here?” teased Cinderella.

Henry chuckled. “For the moment.”

Cinderella threaded her fingers through his. “So what now, Your Highness?”

It was clear she was using his title in jest, but Henry groaned nonetheless. “ _Henry_ ,” he said.

“Henry,” she repeated wistfully. She tilted her head towards him. “So what now, Henry? Are we to remain lost amongst the flowers and hedges until midday? Hiding from your father like wayward schoolchildren?”

“That sounds like a marvelous plan,” said Henry. “And after we have successfully avoided detection, we shall sneak off to the palace chapel, where we shall be married with only the priest and whatever attendant we find to toss petals at your feet as witness. _Then_ –” He freed their hands to cradle her face, leaning down so that his mouth was only a hair’s breadth away from her cheek. “Before we depart for our worldwide adventure, I shall buy you a dozen dresses. Three for traveling –” He placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Three for everyday activities –” Then on her jaw. “Three for dancing –” And another at the corner of her mouth. “And three for when it is just you and I together.” Tenderly, he kissed her lips.

A sigh of contentment escaped Cinderella. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a vaguely exasperated look. “A dozen is already far too much…but three for just you and I? Don’t you think that’s a tad excessive?”

“Certainly not. And each shall be a different shade of the most beautiful blue, to complement your eyes.” He paused, thinking. “Indigo for the evenings,” he decided. “Cerulean for the afternoons…and sapphire for mornings just like this.”

Cinderella hummed thoughtfully, and a comfortable silence settled between them. “So this is love,” she finally murmured. “I had been without it for so long…feeling it once more is the most divine gift.”

Henry skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “ _You_ are the gift, Cinderella. I dread to think of how my life would have been if you had not come to the ball.” He blinked and gave her a curious look. “How…how _did_ you get to the ball? And where did you go afterwards? You have yet to explain your sudden departure.”

Cinderella blushed. “Oh.” She let out a laugh. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you. It’s a bit of a long story. But –”

“Your Majesty, please!” exclaimed an alarmingly nearby voice. “They will come inside when they –”

“They shall come inside _now_ ,” declared the king. “Or I shall make the wedding announcement without either of them.”

 _So much for our hiding place_ , thought Henry. He flashed Cinderella an apologetic look.

“I promise I shall tell you everything later,” she said humorously. “But I think we have eluded your father long enough.”

Henry emitted a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “Prepare yourself,” he warned her.

“Oh, I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

“Well if you don’t, then neither do I,” said Henry. “As long as I’m with you, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Cinderella. She raised herself on her toes and kissed Henry’s cheek. “Shall we?”

Henry smiled. “After you, love.”

Together, they stepped out of the grove of white blossoms and into the promise of the sunlit day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently writing my first Young Adult fairy tale retelling novel. If you are interested in following me as I work on it, you are more than welcome to check out my website (and subscribe via email!). My website url is simply kaceythiele. Also, follow me on Instagram! @kaceythiele


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